


Routine Conversation

by witchwrites



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Other, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), post loyalty mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchwrites/pseuds/witchwrites
Summary: Things are a little strained in the aftermath of Mordin and Shepard’s trip to Tuchanka.





	Routine Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> i’m only just now playing the ME series like a hundred years late. take this with a grain of salt since i’m not done with my playthru yet, but i couldnt stop thinking about mordin after playing his loyalty mission and just wanted to get something short out.

The door to the lab slides open with a soft, synthetic noise. Mordin briefly wonders how the designers of the door system settled on the sound it should make. A long time ago, he’d learned the interesting fact that most things can be made soundless, but most aliens don’t appreciate total silence because they rely on audible feedback to process the world around them, and so there are sound engineers who decide what doors and buttons and all manner of mundane things should sound like. He wonders how many iterations they made of the  _ shhh _ noise, caused by door’s compression system releasing, before they settled on the one they chose.

He keeps typing up his notes. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is because no one else ever visits him.

“Shepard,” he says, immediately. It’s almost an instinctual response at this point. He’s heard humans reference an old human experiment before - Pavlov’s dogs. You ring a bell and the dogs salivate. Mordin hears the door open and greets Shepard.

He wonders if he should feel at odds with that. He doesn’t.

“Mordin,” she says. She sounds genuinely happy to see him, as she usually does. There’s not a lot of people who  _ would _ be happy to see him. That doesn’t bother him, but he appreciates Shepard’s fondness. She continues, “How’s everything going?”

“Stalled,” he says. He stops typing, looks up, assesses her mood. Her face is flat, head tilted to one side, waiting for more information before she reacts. He’s always liked that about her. “Cultures ruined. Defect in machine. Have to start over. New batch cooking.”

Shepard glances around the lab, trying to spot the defective equipment and likely failing. She’s not a scientist and only barely understands when he tells her about culture samples and testing and genetic sequences. He likes that she tries, that she listens regardless. “I’m sorry about that. Do we need to get you a replacement?” she asks.

He shakes his head quickly. “No need. Simple fix. Did it myself.”

“Oh,” she says, then nods. “Well, anyway, that’s not really what I meant. I meant, how are  _ you _ ?”

Mordin takes a sharp breath in. She does this sometimes, prodding and asking questions. She has a personal interest in her crew, wants to know how they’re feeling and if she can help. That sort of leadership isn’t common in Salarian scientific circles. It’s one of the rare times that Mordin feels a twinge of discomfort around her.

“Well enough,” he says. “Machine defect only momentary setback. Facilities otherwise superb. Enjoy working here, enjoy the challenge. Get to go on missions again. Reminds me of STG days.” He pauses, takes another breath. “You know this, Shepard.”

He ducks his head, returning to typing. He hopes that satisfies whatever she’s looking for. He doesn’t want to talk about the genophage again - what’s done is done and he’s made his peace with it. It used to not bother him much to talk about, but ever since he and Shepard “rescued” his student, he’s felt unease when pondering it for long periods of time and he’d rather just move on. And he _ has _ moved on, he’s sure of that, but Shepard won’t let it go. He knows she doesn’t agree with his choices, that she’s disappointed he still feels he ultimately made the right choice despite his ethical concerns. It’s the only time they’ve argued since he joined the Normandy crew. 

Mordin tries not to make a habit of caring whether people are disappointed in him, personally. If she was disappointed with his performance, his current work, perhaps that would be more upsetting. But not this.

She’s still standing there, so he glances back up. She’s frowning, and he finds it difficult not to care. It’s always difficult to do that with Shepard. Perhaps because he knows that he’s usually her favorite. Her first pick for the squad on missions. The lab is the first place she visits when she comes back from a fight.

Mordin is rarely anyone’s favorite. He is respected, admired, envied, feared, occasionally seen as attractive, sure. But not a  _ favorite _ , not a  _ friend _ . He takes a little pride in being hers.

“I -” she starts, then stops. She breathes a heavy breath out through her nose, grinds her fingertips in small circles against her temple as she briefly closes her eyes. He knows her well enough by now to know that this is what she does when she decides not to pry even if she desperately wants to. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work,” she relents.

She opens her eyes. They nod at each other, like they always do. “Will be here if you need me, Shepard,” he says. She leaves.

Mordin continues his work, feeling even more restless than usual.


End file.
